The Enigma of Doctor Watson
by doctorcoffeeboy
Summary: Sherlock Holmes can solve the graetest mysteries, the most complicated murders, but he can't solve the Mystery that is Sherlock Holmes' Fascination with Doctor Watson. Slash. Shohn. Fluff. Sorta. May turn out to be M...but not yet.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: VERY IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE AT THE END

XxXxXxX

"John. I need to test something." Sherlock stated quietly.

It was about 9pm, Mrs. Hudson had just told them she was getting an early night and to keep the noise down. They both knew she still thought they were dating, but they obviously weren't.

John had acted in his usual flustered way, insisting that they weren't like that, so he'd missed the light that flicked on in Sherlock's eyes.

So now, 57 seconds later, Sherlock had formed an experiment.

His theory was based as follows.

John. This perfectly ordinary, casual, _normal_ man had caught Sherlocks' attention since the day he stepped into Sherlock's lab at Barts. There was nothing special about him, nothing to divert his attention in any way, nothing he could tell, and yet the invalided army doctor had been in every second thought since that day.

Being a self confessed Sociopath, Sherlock had just assumed this was normal behaviour, having never really got close to a person before. Anyone he'd decided was at least tolerable in their thoughts and mind to stay in his flat with him had left within a week or so.

But John. Even though he still asked questions, he didn't get where Sherlock got his conclusions until they were layed out simple enough for a toddler, and even though they still had arguments over tedious things like the solar system, Sherlock couldn't understand why he hadn't turned John away. Why he hadn't himself insisted John leave. He was the same as the others that he'd tried to share rent with, except this time John hadn't run. Hadn't given up. Hadn't decided he was too much work.

As far as Sherlock could tell, that just meant they could be good friends. They got on each other's nerves, but they hadn't given up yet.

Mrs. Hudson had been trying to get Sherlock into a relationship with someone for a while, claiming he needed someone like that in his life. As far as he was concerned, he had Mrs. Hudson to make sure he didn't die of starvation or dehydration, and to make sure he was okay every now and then, without the annoying intimacy and need to be together. He'd tried it, a while ago, with a man called James. Or Jim. He couldn't remember.

It was back at College. James (it had to be that, surely…) had been on the same intellectual level as him, and they got on well, joking around and being able to deduct people together. The change of accent was sweet to Sherlock's ears, having only had Mycrofts' posh voice around him for years.

James had suggested they try out as boyfriends. Sherlock, being bored and in need of new things to do, had agreed.

It was okay for a while. They managed to co-operate as a couple, and people knew about them, and it was fine. But James was too…clingy. He insisted they be together at least 5 times a week, was always having contact with him when they were together, and in the end Sherlock broke it off. The intimacy was too much. So was how masochistic James was…

He hadn't seen James since, but that wasn't really a problem.

So he knew how relationships sort of worked. He'd been a bit awkward about it back then, and still didn't really know what to do, or when.

But John…

He'd tried to stop whatever was happening to his thoughts. John was his flatmate, he was an army doctor, he wasn't like _that_. He'd probably disapprove. That conversation at the café on their first night, it had been awkward. Sherlock made it clear he didn't want a relationship, but was that even what John had been suggesting?

It had been about a month since then, and every day Sherlock had been fascinated by a different aspect of Doctor Watson. For a while he was interested in how far Johns patience would be able to stretch, then it moved to his clothes, favourite shirts (Window checked), make of jeans (Levi), how many buttons on the shirts (6, usually), if he ever had his buttons undone (only the collar button. He was far too modest, unlike Sherlock himself), and so on. Of course, then the jumpers. He couldn't help but be fascinated by the jumpers. It seemed he favoured the beige cable knit jumper that he'd worn on their first meeting outside 221B Baker Street. That was a good thing really, because Sherlock found he liked that jumper as well. He wasn't quite sure why. It seemed like the sort of thing that didn't really look good on anyone, but John managed. That, and the black and white striped jumper that was thin cotton, thin enough to be worn as a tee without a shirt beneath. The wide collar and design gave John the impression of being about 12 years old, and Sherlock couldn't hide a smirk every time he saw him in it, but it was of affection, not rudeness. And he wouldn't have that jumper any other way.

Today, Sherlock had discovered an…infatuation…with Johns' silhouette. The way he sat in the chair, even after he'd returned to England, still held a somewhat military look about it. He wasn't the tallest of men, so the armchair dwarfed him slightly, but Sherlock didn't mind. His concentrating face was the best thing about when he was reading. Usually it was the newspaper, in case Sherlock had missed something that John might find important, like who was with who – not that Sherlock would even acknowledge that anyway – or some such boring thing. Johns' almost childish haircut and button-like nose added to the young quality he possessed. His lips pursed slightly when he was thinking, and this was what interested Sherlock most. He didn't know why. Those lips looked so soft.

But then it got back to the first point. John probably wasn't like that.

Lestrade had noticed Sherlock's fascination a week or so ago at the Yard. John had gone to ask Sally something about the case because Sherlock had been petulant and refused to go over there himself. As he left, Sherlock found himself staring after him, just in awe of how this ordinary man had caught his interest.

He had heard a low chuckling behind him and spun, blushing slightly at being caught at anything. Lestrade raised an eyebrow.

"Wow. He's got you good." Lestrade commented knowingly.

"Got me how? Who?" Sherlock turned to see John look up and catch his eye. John smiled, smirking more than smiling, and Sherlock realised he was blushing already, and did so slightly more.

"Yea. Thought so." Lestrade commented as Sherlock turned round, looking at the floor.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked cautiously.

"You're infatuated. You love him." Lestrade had stated casually.

"No I don't. I don't." Sherlock folded his arms, uncaring how childish he'd looked, it was just one of those days.

"I'm surprised if he's not worked it out yet. You solve mysteries and murders at the click of a finger, but you cannot solve the enigma that is Sherlock Holmes' fascination with Doctor Watson." Lestrade smiled. "Well, a clue. Tell him."

Sherlock was about to answer when John stepped behind him, close behind him.

"Tell me what?" John asked, and Sherlock could hear the smile.

"Nothing." Sherlock had stepped forward, away from the heat radiating from his … friend.

XxXxXxX

"John. I need to test something." Sherlock stated quietly.

"What?" John looked up and over at Sherlock.

"Can you stand up?" The World's Only Consulting Detective [Yes, he capitalised it even to himself] looked a little bit embarrassed at his question, and John couldn't help but be curious.

"Sure…" He stood up slowly. "Now what?"

Sherlock licked his lips nervously and stood up, and looked at John across the room. He took a deep breath and stepped on and over the coffee table to be right in front of John.

"Please. Don't move." Sherlock murmured.

John frowned, having to look up slightly at Sherlock. "Okay. Why?"

Sherlock tried to calm his breathing as he reached forward, gently catching the side of John's face in his hand as he moved to catch John's lips in his.

He was right, John's lips were soft. His face was warm and fitted perfectly in his palm. It took a few seconds to realise what he was even doing, then Sherlock stepped back suddenly, breathing bordering on extreme, fear levels rising as he bit his lip.

"I'm sorry." He looked at the floor. "I don't know what…" He closed his eyes. It was a stupid idea, he shouldn't have tried it out. He should have just stopped himself, surely it wasn't that difficult.

"Sherlock."

Sherlock looked up slowly, and saw John stepping forward.

Without pausing, John placed a hand on Sherlock's chest, pushing him back into the

wall before looping an arm round his neck and gently pulling Sherlock down, crashing their lips together.

Sherlock let himself go slack, the shock of John's actions taking a few seconds to sink in so that he could respond.

Hesitantly, unsure of what to do, he moved his arms slowly around the shorter mans torso, jumping slightly as John's own knotted into his hair, the other resting on his lower back.

Sherlock let his lips move against Johns, accidentally moaning slightly, closing his eyes as he got a receiving moan, equally quiet.

Before long, both had completely run out of air. They parted softly, and Johns' hands dropped to rest casually on Sherlock's waist as he rested his head on Sherlock's chest, hearing his heart beating wildly.

Sherlock couldn't help but notice how well they seemed to fit together against each other as he leant against the wall and allowed John to relax against him.

"I thought you'd leave." Sherlock murmured, resting his head on John's.

"You're an idiot." John muttered, chuckling. "I've known for a while now and been waiting for you to do something about it. I was beginning to think you wouldn't." John's thumbs gently rubbed circles on Sherlock's hips.

"Sorry." Sherlock smiled into John's hair, his whole body feeling like electricity was coursing through it. Being this close to John was better than any high. "I just didn't know what to do."

"It's okay. I didn't want to rush."

Sherlock nodded, then chuckled slightly.

"What?" John leant back enough to look up at Sherlock, smiling slightly.

"My most difficult case yet." Sherlock paused. "The Enigma of Sherlock Holmes' fascination with Doctor Watson. I do believe I almost solved it."

John grinned. "Glad to know I'm more of a challenge than your average case."

"Of course." Sherlock smirked. Then his expression turned worried again. "So…now we've established _this_…" Sherlock tightened his hold around John's torso to emphasise his point. "…What now?"

John frowned. "I'm not sure." He paused. "Should we talk over a cuppa?"

Sherlock nodded, smiling. Tea. John's ultimate answer to everything. "Okay." He let John go, ignoring the voice in his head calling John back, and allowed him to go and start the kettle and pull out two mugs. 

XxXxXxX

A/N: This was supposed to be a one-shot, but I quite like it. Any thoughts?

Right. I can't really get online at the moment, sadly. This is in school right now for Gods sake, in my break time. So…I won't get to update often, but you can bet that when I update, I really update. So sorry for stories not being updated, I lost my USB stick too, and I had like an 8 page update for 'How It All Began' and a beginning for 'Unexpected Adventure' but now I've had this big old problem.

**Please review, including what stories you want me to have a go at updating. I'm working on 'Drugs Bust' (Jason Layton? Cheers for always reviewing for me! I'm trying to chuck out a new chapter, just for you! *Pauses* Yea. That sounded stalkerish. Sorry.), 'Unexpected Adventure' – Yea. Sorry Rhi! I've been busy. Thanks for your update btw, me kissing Watson? I was flailing…in school. – 'How It all Began', and my new story, 'My Own Minutiae'. **

**Love you all!**

**Lydistar. **


	2. Chapter 2

John sat opposite Sherlock, their teas in their hands, minds buzzing at the revelations that had just occurred.

"So…what should we do?" John asked.

"Why the hell are you asking me? I'm not going to know." Sherlock muttered. "I was just going with a sense, I've got no idea what I'm doing. This is all new."

"You've never been in a relationship?" John questioned incredulously. It was difficult to imagine a man like Sherlock, who looked like _that_, would go his life without a boyfriend or girlfriend. Although, he sort of guessed that many moves had been made towards him, each of them rejected coldly and naively.

"A few times. The only real time was at Uni, but that was just me and him experimenting with lack of things to do. Two or three since then, but they were just for cases, so nothing happened. There were no feelings, at least, not from me." Sherlock shrugged.

John smirked. "Woah. Now I feel like you've just changed your ways for me."

"I sort of have…but that's kind of why this is all so confusing and new. I've never done this..." He gestured between them. "…Before."

"I'm sure we'll work it all out. I just don't want to push you."

Sherlock smiled appreciatively. "So…what are we?" He leant back in the couch, eyes still on the tea, slightly awkward. "Couple? Partners? …boyfriends?" The last one was barely a murmur.

"Partners is too old. I think…couple when we're around people…"

"And boyfriends when we're alone." Sherlock ended, smiling.

"Yea. If you're okay with that." John added.

"Of course." Sherlock paused. "What about Anderson?" He suddenly seemed a little unsure of everything.

"You're not worried about Anderson?" John teased.

"No! Just…it might give him even more reason to _not_ do his job." Sherlock looked at the floor, trying not to admit that Anderson was a little freaky when he was up close, that's why Sherlock fell back onto sarcasm and rudeness. That, and he was just annoying and Sherlock didn't know if he could be bothered with the stupid remarks.

"We'll be careful." John smiled across at his…boyfriend. That felt so weird. "Anyway, I want both of us to get an early night. These last few days have been full of cases and I can hardly keep my eyes open, and I've had more sleep than you, I'd bet." John stopped to check the darkness under Sherlock's eyes. "Right. Come on."

"I'm fine here." Sherlock stated, folding his arms and twisting to be laying down, smirking ever so slightly.

"Fine. I'm not going to argue with you, but if I don't think you've had enough sleep tomorrow morning, you're staying here, case or no case."

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest but John held up a hand, he had his serious face on. Oh how much Sherlock liked that face. "I don't care how 'interesting' it may be. No sleep equals no case." He turned of the light as he left the room, smiling as he did so.

XxXxXxX 

Sherlock settled on the couch, deciding it was too warm for covers, and stared at the ceiling, at the place where John's bed was.

It was going to be okay. John liked him. It seemed Mrs. Hudson was right.

Would they act any different around each other? Clearly they'd…what was the word? Snuggle…on the couch to watch movies, and spend time just talking, but that one already happened. Maybe they would talk about different things? Maybe they'd argue less? Or argue more, about the littler things, like washing up. Didn't Mrs. Hudson call them 'domestics'? Would they stay in their own rooms, on their own beds or would they share? And if they did, how would they decide. Would it just happen overnight or would it be a more gradual thing, like once every other night until they just share. Would they move their things into one room? Who's? Would they show affection towards each other in the street or at Scotland Yard? What would Mycroft say? No, Mycroft probably knew already. Stalker. If Mycroft knew, did that mean Mummy did?

So many questions, and Sherlock wasn't sure if he could answer them all at the moment. His mind was slowing down, he needed rest.

Sherlock Holmes fell asleep with a smile on his face.

XxXxXxX

Next Day – 9am.

John blearily stepped into the living room and headed for the kitchen. He'd brushed his teeth and changed out of pyjamas, but that didn't mean he was ready for the world, his eyes wouldn't focus and he was still shattered.

It took him a few moments to realise Sherlock was still on the couch though now he was turned to face the open room, legs bent slightly, his left arm – the side he was laying on – was bent at the elbow to allow for his hand to be loosely fisted and resting, palm up, on the pillow below his chin.

John couldn't believe how different he looked when he was asleep.

Sherlock's curls were slightly obscuring his face, but his expression was so clear and smooth. He lost the sharpness, the hint of petulance and boredom.

John noticed Sherlock didn't have a cover on, and probably hadn't bothered all night, and carefully draped a blanket over him before going through to the kitchen and making two cups, one for himself and one for if Sherlock woke up.

John settled himself on his armchair and grabbed a book from the messy shelf – Stephen King. He didn't want to wake up Sherlock but he wasn't hiding in his room like a 12 year old. He heard movement and glanced across to see Sherlock had taken hold of the blanket and gathered it into himself, clutching it in his hands and holding it close. John smirked, knowing that was the blanket he himself used, so it smelt like John.

There was a knock downstairs.

John cursed quietly and stood up, taking quiet steps over to the hallway and padding down the stairs to open the door.

"Hello John." Mycroft smiled from the doorway. "May I come in?" It was raining, and John thought how it was strange to see the umbrella in use, he was beginning to think it wasn't real.

"Sherlock's asleep." John stated. "It's taken me days to get him to do that." He wasn't going to be intimidated by Mycroft. They were practically the same age.

"John?" Sherlock's voice called faintly from upstairs.

"And now he's awake." Mycroft stated. John sighed and nodded. "Just wait a minute first, so I can let him know you're here."

He turned and jogged up the stairs, walking in to find a Sherlock in his arms, burying his face in his neck and kissing the skin there softly.

"Sher…Ahem. Sherlock?" John murmured. What was he meant to be saying?

"Yes?" Sherlock asked, his tone deeper than usual.

"I-"

"Ah, Sherlock…"

Sherlock jumped slightly, a lifted his head, not moving, to rest his chin on John's shoulder and look over at Mycroft. John was glad Mycroft couldn't see his face, because he was blushing like crazy.

"Mycroft. Don't you realise how sick it is to watch your brother greeting his partner good morning?"

He said it so casually, as if the term just rolled of his tongue, but John could feel Sherlock's heart rate practically go at the speed of a humming bird and his grip around John tense slightly, showing he was just as thrilled at using the word 'partner' as John was hearing it.

"John was supposed to warn you I was on my way."

"Ah." Sherlock stepped back, but John noticed the hesitation with barely suppressed glee. He'd broken Sherlock's no-feelings barrier. "Well, I trust it's important."

"I'd say so." Mycroft paused, and John could have sworn it seemed like Mycroft was looking…awkward. "Actually, I want to speak to just you, Sherlock."

"If it's 'want', then it's not mandatory, so I'll pass. Close the door behind you." Sherlock turned to sit down, realising he was still in his pyjamas.

"Sherlock." John put a hand on his arm, making him stop. "I think you should speak to him, we both know Mycroft wouldn't come here of his own accord unless there was good reason."

Sherlock nodded once. He turned to Mycroft, but watched John as he left the room. "What?" He asked.

Mycroft had been watching John's actions towards Sherlock with interest, as his brother never usually let people within a 1-foot radius, let alone contact.

"I just wanted to make sure you're sure about this." Mycroft said carefully, taking a seat in Johns' armchair, noting how Sherlock's eyes narrowed a little at someone else in the good doctors' seat.

"Yes. I'm sure. I'm not 21 any more Mycroft, I know how to look after myself."

"You've never been this open with anyone. What if it backfires? What if _he_ doesn't love _you_?"

"I'm willing to accept that. I can't just stay quiet about it Mycroft! You're lucky. You found your partner easily. How Greg hasn't left you yet, I'll never know."

"You're young Sherlock. How can you be sure?"

"How can I be sure I love John? Every time I'm near him, my heart flutters insanely, I've almost considered going to a hospital twice now. Whenever he puts a hand on my arm, or my shoulder, or my back, I can't think properly. You know me, you know what I usually have to do to slow my brain down, but I don't need to now. I…You know what, I don't even need to explain this to you. You know all this, you've been stalking me." Sherlock scoffed. "Now, if you don't mind, and even if you do, I'm going to get changed then do some experiments on the severed head in my fridge. So I'd be much obliged if you'd leave."

Mycroft nodded, standing. "Okay Sherlock. But be careful."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Oh, and Greg told me to tell you that he's having a few days of. We're going to a conference in America. So Dimmock is in charge at the Yard for two days."

"Okay." Sherlock was already halfway to the stairs leading to his room. "Goodbye Mycroft. Do try and get stranded in America won't you? But make sure Lestrade gets back."

Sherlock didn't wait to check if Mycroft left, he just went through to his room. Of course he was sure, he'd analysed every little point of his thoughts, gone through every possibility, and made careful examination of what John was likely to respond with.

**XxXxXxX**

**A/N: Ta-daa! Chapter Two! I'm trying to get up as many chapters of stuff as I can. Can you tell? Review please!**

***Hugs back at Fae Fae* **

**Thanks for the fantastic feedback! I only put it on yesterday and already have like 7 reviews! **

**And hey, **_**Akahans**_**, I'm so glad that this story helped improve your idea of Sherlock/John. I'm so totally blushing over the fact that you spoke so highly of this! Thankyou! **


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